​What Became of British Heavyweight Boxing?

It was some ungodly hour on June 8, 2002 and Larry Merchant's voice blared from the TV: "The bad boy of boxing is getting spanked by Lennox Lewis." Through weary, adolescent eyes I watched the dreadlocked titan shunt Mike Tyson's face with his thunderous left jab for eight rounds before unloading one of boxing's most iconic punches. Lewis' right hand, hurtling faster than a runaway freight train, careered into Tyson's chin like his head was a Fiat Panda stranded on a level crossing. The American slumped to the canvas stupefied, over-the-hill, and spent with blood streaming from his rearranged face.

There's nothing like a flash of hard leather propelled by 250lbs of fury to settle old scores, and there were plenty during the '90s and early 2000s: Tyson vs. Holyfield, Lewis vs. Rahman, Tyson vs. Bruno, Holyfield vs. Bowe. It was beautiful poetry composed by ugly brutes and I was hooked. A Briton ruled the heavyweight division and there was enough blood, guts, and colourful narrative to satiate the appetites of boxing fans. Things were good.

But this is 2015 and the halcyon days of charismatic British leviathans crushing bones and spilling blood are up. Heavyweight boxing croaked on these shores when Lewis retired as the last undisputed champion after his controversial yet enthralling TKO victory over Vitali Klitschko in 2003. Since then the circus has moved to town and every clown with a pair of gloves and a slack tongue thinks they're Ali reborn. In truth, the likes of David Haye, Tyson Fury, David Price, and Dereck Chisora are an insult to the sport — these jokers have dragged British boxing to the schoolyard where petty insults, minor scuffles, and desperate excuses preside over the sweet science. They're a laughing stock; I bet Henry Cooper is throwing punches in his grave.

As Britain's last heavyweight champion, natural-born cruiserweight Haye deserves at least some credit. He defeated 7ft Russian monster Nikolai Valuev to claim the WBA belt, but what transpired thereafter defaces the Londoner's impressive rise to the top. In fact, the final four fights of Haye's career are so comical they should be mashed into a short film and overlaid with the Yakety Sax score. A routine title defence against an underwhelming and overmatched John Ruiz preceded Haye's demolition of the abysmal Audley Harrison, who landed one punch in three rounds before Haye made him look like a lost baby. Embarrassingly, the champion was forced to deny betting on himself to win in the third and the occasion smacked of formality, inevitability, and scandal.

Reigning IBF, WBO, and IBO champ Wladamir Klitschko was up next and despite all the goading and crass trash talk dished out by Haye — eloquent soundbites like "he's a dickhead" — the Ukrainian eased to a points victory in Hamburg.

But it got worse. The Briton's deflated ego lumped all the blame on his broken toe before brandishing the tiny, swollen appendage in front of the cameras for the world to see. It was too painful to watch, but incredibly it didn't end there and Haye fashioned yet another opportunity to sully the heavyweight division a year later. He crashed Chisora's press conference after his compatriot's defeat to Wladamir's brother, Vitali, for the WBC title in 2012. Beer in hand, Haye heckled Chisora from the back of the room like a half-cut punter at the Comedy Store until they locked horns with cameras flashing and chairs flying. "I swear to God, David, I'm going to shoot you!" yelled Dereck after taking a bottle on the chin. The brawl proved what a couple of reckless idiots the two boxers are and depressingly turned out to be the most entertaining British heavyweight bout in years.

Lewis was no stranger to the odd brawl in his time but he's kept a relatively low profile since hanging up his gloves, bar a few brief television appearances and playing in the World Series of Poker, when ironically enough, he was knocked out without winning a penny. The last time I saw him near a ring he had taken 6ft 8 Price under his sympathetic wing in a bid to make him "nasty." Despite Price's gargantuan presence he fights like a Labrador puppy and has a glass chin —Tony Thompson flattened ESPN's 2012 prospect of the year with the most inconspicuous of glances in their first fight. Memorable comedy sequels are rare, but Price vs. Thompson 2 tops the bill. Even with Lewis in his corner the oversized Liverpudlian crumbled and was finished on his feet, exhausted and defenseless in round five. Lewis' expressionless face ringside said it all, and he should have kept shtum at the press conference:

"Could be nervous energy, could be low blood sugar, we need to investigate to find out what exactly the problem is with David," he told reporters.

As excuses go, that's got to be up there with the worst. Price simply isn't cut out to be a top-line boxer and has faced off against a handful of weak, unknown Eastern Europeans since; he's fighting Erkan Teper from Germany for the worthless EBU title this month. Writing that last sentence dampened my spirit; I just hope there are no young boxing fans watching the bout, as it could turn them off the sport for good.

Perhaps the most entertaining British boxer outside the ring is Tyson Fury. The man is 6ft 9, descended from travelling bare knuckle fighters, and is named after the self-proclaimed "baddest man on the planet", Mike Tyson, yet he is best known for his Elvis Presley impersonations and slapstick press conferences.

Fury loves nothing more than holding court with journalists and grabbing headlines for kicking tables over but his regular claims to be "the best heavyweight on the planet" are undermined by his record. He may be unbeaten but aside from knocking out 41-year-old taxi driver/boxer Martin Rogan and cruiserweight-poorly-imitating-a-heavyweight Steve Cunningham — not to mention rumbling to a couple of dire points decisions against Chisora — his record makes for uninspiring reading. Hopes of a fight against Wladamir Klitschko drag on but if a contract does materialise it will prove the sternest of tests for the Mancunian, and will inject some desperately needed spice into the division. We might actually see two equally-sized big men have a go at each other.

Interest in the heavyweight division is waning among fans. Hard hitting action, authentic rivalries, and decent fighters are in short supply and W.Klitschko has remained unchallenged for far too long. Old Blighty was once a proud factory churning out charismatic and exciting bruisers who boxed for boxing's sake — celebrity came second. That's all changed and fighters now crave instant recognition and riches without offering anything in return.

The future of British heavyweight boxing is a worry, but there is at least one light at the end of the tunnel: Londoner Anthony Joshua. The young, unassuming hulk is currently earning his stripes by knocking out average fighters for fun. Keep an eye out for him – there's not much else to pin your hopes on.